


For Exclusivity

by GVSpurlock



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: A tiny bit of Jane/OFC, Alcohol, At the beginning I suppose, Blow Jobs, Criminals Made Them Do It, Cunnilingus, Dominance, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Flogging, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Ice Play, Jane/Kurt Bang For The Greater Good, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light M/M BDSM, Mostly-Offscreen Orgy, Pegging, Slow Dancing, Something Made Them Do It, Strip Tease, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism, Woman on Top, oh god where do i start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GVSpurlock/pseuds/GVSpurlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Weller make a trade for the WitSec list. AU of s01e09 "Authentic Flirt."</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Exclusivity

**Author's Note:**

> This ridiculous plot bunny sunk in its little rabbity fangs and would not let me go. Ennis Esmer was so adorable as Rich/Gord — I wanted him to have some more screen time. So, the premise of this fic: s01e09 (Authentic Flirt) happens like it does in the episode (much of the dialogue is from the show), but instead of Carl’s not-70th birthday party… it’s an orgy. A really classy orgy.
> 
> So, fair warning: this is approximately 8k words of unadulterated porn by a first-time porn writer, un-betaed to boot. It may be terrible. If it is, please know that I am so, so sorry. I just had to get it out of my head. That being said, feedback would mean the world!

“I’m going to need your cell phones,” said the pleasant man across from them. “As you know, my employer is an extremely cautious man.”

Jane and Weller exchanged a glance before pulling out their phones and handing them over. Weller’s attention was captured by the delicacy of Jane’s wrists and was surprised when the man offered them each a small, black bag with a scrunch close top. Accepting it gingerly, Jane opened hers first and her mouth made a small ‘O’ of surprise as she sucked in a breath. Weller could care less — an expensive gift to butter up potential customers. 

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Why don’t you wait and see,” the other man said mysteriously.

Weller tried to catch Jane’s eye, but she was gazing out the window, a hint of a blush on her high cheekbones. She did accept his hand when he reached for her, but still refused to meet his eye. They arrived quickly at a helipad, with the main rotor blade already whirring. A pair of unremarkable goons waited by the copter.

“Arms up!” one of them demanded.

Weller was patted down without incident, but Jane’s pat-down was rather more intimate. 

The guard’s hand brushed down her stomach and her upper thighs, looking for a hidden 9mil in a holster.

“That’s enough,” Weller growled. 

He made eye contact with the angry agent, giving him a little smirk as he crouched and ran his hands up her ankles and shapely calves, pulling her beautiful dress above her knees. 

“I said enough!” he exploded, wrenching out of the grip of the other guard.

“Hey…” Jane soothed, reaching for his arm. Weller continued to press forward, furious.

“Hey!” she shouted, grabbing his hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

She gave him a small smile. “Please, let him do his job.” She turned the smile on the guard, giving him a charming little shrug.

“I don’t like him touching you,” Weller hissed.

“And I don’t like you touching him,” Jane teased. 

“You’re good,” the other man said roughly, finishing the pat-down.

“Thank you,” Jane told him.

The pleasant man from the car favored them with a smile and indicated a path leading up to an ostentatious seaside mansion, “That way.”

Weller gripped her hand tightly and led her up the winding path. 

“What the hell was that about?” Jane asked, quiet but with some heat behind it.

“You’re my wife,” he replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She rolled her eyes and took the opportunity to look around. “I don’t know where we are,” she told him, though this was nothing new. She knew her way around her neighborhood and the field office, but despite an excellent sense of direction, she could rarely identify where in the city their cases had taken them.

A frisson of panic shot through her as she realized: “We have no guns, no backup… how are we gonna arrest this guy?”

“Well,” Weller said, resigned. “New plan: secure the list, get out of here alive.”

Jane gripped the small black bag in her hand and agreed with a tight smile. “Okay.”

They reached a pair of French doors and each pulled one door open. Jane could hear the faint sounds of classical music from another room and lifted her chin slightly to capture the smell of the place: good food, wine, something akin to cinnamon, and a hint of musk. She was starting to have a suspicion about the contents of the black bag, but couldn’t think of how to bring it up with Weller, who was casing the place, a little too obviously.

There was a tasteful, white banner reading “Happy 70th Birthday Carl!” in an ornate script hanging between two stucco columns. 

“Lot of security for a birthday for a birthday party,” Jane murmured in Weller’s ear, hesitating before slipping her arm around his trim waist. She appreciated the feel of fine cloth under her fingers and the warmth of his body against her. “Top of the line, too. Do you think we’re here to meet Carl?”

Weller started a bit at the contact, before relaxing into her. “I don’t know.”

“Well…” she bit her lip, fingers clenching his side. “What should we do now?” Down the hallway, an elegantly dressed man had a woman in a long black and white dress pressed against the wall with his head on her collarbone. A blonde in a slinky black dress dragged her hand over the man’s back and grasped the hand of the other woman, pulling gently. The pair followed her down the hallway out of sight.

Weller was still occupied with the heavy security and said quietly, “We should wait ’til the seller makes contact.”

A waiter with a plate full of pristine crystal wine glasses walked by and he snagged two, offering one to Jane. 

“Until then, we should try to blend in.”

They followed the sound of the delicate strings until they reached an honest-to-goodness ballroom. The rhythmic shuffle of dress shoes blended nicely with the quartet’s sprightly song. Weller snatched her glass out of her hand and deposited them on a nearby surface before offering her his hand.

Jane blushed hotly. “No, I… I don’t think I can dance,” she demurred.

Weller’s smile was a bit wicked. “Well… up until this morning, you couldn’t speak Bulgarian.”

He grasped her right hand and pulled her tightly up against him with his left. She gasped at the unexpected contact and fumbled a bit to put her hands in the right position. 

“Who knows?” he said in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “You could be a tango champion.”

Jane chuckled as she imagined doing a promenade with Weller, rose clutched between his teeth. 

They settled into the dance and Jane thrilled to be held so closely, but she felt a little uneasy as she thought about the piercing eyes of the US Marshall who had greeted Weller with such familiarity and casual intimacy.

“So, um, you and that, um, US Marshal over here,” she started.

“Yeah.”

“You looked pretty…” she had no idea how to finish that sentence, but dreaded his answer.

“Yeah, we used to date. For a little while.”

Jane was surprised at his answer and bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to press further. What the hell, he couldn’t run away here. “Well, how little?”

Weller spun her around so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “A year or so.”

She supposed she should have expected it. Weller didn’t open up easily and a greeting like that indicated an intimate relationship. But… “That’s a little?”

He let out a short laugh, clearly remembering. “We weren’t… the best at communicating.”

Jane smiled at that, suspecting that “we” actually meant “I.” 

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Have you ever been married?”

“No,” Weller answered shortly. He realized that was probably an inadequate answer. “Never married. I’m too choosy.”

She flashed back to her recovered memory from the elevator, the pleasurable weight of her mystery man, the slide of their bodies against each other, his kiss and his smile as he twisted the glittering band on her left hand. “I, um, I’ve been having memories that make it seem like I might have been engaged,” she told him. It only seemed fair after he opened up about the marshal. 

The warm hand against her lower back flexed slightly, but Weller’s face remained still. “What’d you remember?”

She met his eyes, amazed all over again at how very blue they were. “Moments, fragments,” she whispered. “It all seemed so… far away from where I am now.” 

They were silent for a bit, Weller pulling her closer as the song changed to something a little jazzier.

They both turned as they heard footsteps. A member of the security team approached them, expressionless. “He’s ready for you.”

Weller let out an irritated sigh. “About time,” he snapped.

They were led to an expensively-appointed room, tucked away in the far corner of the mansion. A shirtless man in leather pants panted in the middle of the room, ankles cuffed to the front chair legs and his arms tied behind him. Jane couldn’t help but admire his slender torso and the dark treasure trail wandering into his pants. He was erect and clearly uncomfortable, straining toward the man who was trailing a flogger along his skin. 

Jane and Weller were so distracted by the overt display that they didn’t notice the dark-haired man clapping his hands in delight at their entrance. “There they are!” he exclaimed, beaming at them. “Oh my goodness, as I live and breathe, there they are.” 

He clapped Weller on the shoulder in an overly friendly manner before turning to Jane with a flirtatious grin. He picked up her hand and brushed a kiss against it. 

“Rich Dotcom,” he announced. “So glad you could make it. So glad indeed.”

He backed up for a moment, admiring the elegant picture they made and sighed with pleasure. “Wow,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Did you guys see Carl? Did you wish him a happy birthday?”

Weller blinked at the other man. “No,” he said flatly.

Rich laughed, confiding: “He’s not actually 70 today, by the way. Yeah. We just did that to mess with him.”

The sweat-slicked man in the chair stifled a yelp as the man with the flogger flicked it against his upper abdominal muscles. A light hit. Rich smiled at the tableau, indicating for the man with the flogger to continue. 

“He is old, though. He’s pretty old-looking,” he continued, oblivious to Weller and Jane’s confusion. “I think he might be sick.”

A petite young woman with a leather collar brought around a tray of drinks that looked like Patterson’s favorite… a tequila sunrise? Jane thought. Rich accepted one and took a sip, smiling at the young woman. “Thank you very much. Keep those comin’.” He trailed his fingers along her collar and she smiled back before offering the tray to Jane and Weller. 

“No thanks,” Weller said. Jane shook her head, trying on a small smile. The girl wandered out, swaying, knowing the other man was watching her leave.

Rich returned his attention to the couple, admiration shining in his eyes. “And, uh, I’m sorry to have to put you through all this hassle to get up here. You know, I gotta play it safe. Um, hello! I don’t have to tell you. I’m talking to two real-life, actual assassins. Right? I mean… I gotta tell you, this is very exciting for me.”

Jane and Weller exchanged a glance before putting on their most inscrutable assassin faces. Surely the couple they’re supposed to be had seen stranger things than a public display of bondage and sado-masoschism. 

“Did they pat you down?” Rich enquired, eyeing Jane’s slender waist. “Not that that matters, ‘cause I’m sure you could probably kill somebody with a spoon!”

Jane raised what she hoped was a provocative eyebrow.

“Hell, you probably don’t even need the spoon! So bad-ass,” he said, shaking his head. 

Jane figured she needed to move this meeting along, uncomfortable with his open regard. “I-I’m sorry, you said your name was…” she began, unsure that she’d heard correctly. “Rich Dotcom?”

“Yeah, my mom was a big fan of the Internet,” he said, expectant.

When it was clear neither Jane nor Weller were about to respond, he started laughing. “That’s a joke,” he informed them, tutting. “You guys are about as funny as I thought you’d be.”

That made Jane huff out a laugh. Her amusement made Weller smile, a small quirk of the lips quickly smothered.

“Come on!” Rich beckoned, leaving the uncomfortable scene behind them in favor of a quieter space with a large bay of windows.

Jane could not contain a gasp as they entered. A man was bent over the wide arm of an angular sofa, being pounded into by a voluptuous redhead wearing a strap-on. He was grunting regularly, grinding his hips into the arm as she tossed her hair back and grinned widely at the new arrivals. 

“Hey, folks, I’m gonna need the room,” Rich announced. 

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” groaned the man on the sofa. “Please, I’m so sorry.”

Rich looked on in amusement, “Yeah, I’d be sorry, too. Hey, wait ’til they get the spreader pipes out. That’s gonna suck.” He paused thoughtfully. “Or rock.”

He turned to the supposed assassins, who were attempting to wipe the shock off their faces. Weller pressed the heel of his palm against his burgeoning hard-on, hoping like hell no one had noticed. The tuxedo pants, thankfully, had a bit of room. 

“Hey, they gotta do one more pass on you guys, just to make sure you’re not recording the whole thing.” Rich didn’t look particularly apologetic as a woman with very short, wispy brown hair approached with a black wand. She tugged first on Jane’s arm, pulling her toward the window and running the wand very close to the other woman’s skin. 

Jane bit her lip as the wand brushed her nipples, pebbled by the visual stimulation they’d encountered. The woman made uncomfortably good eye contact as she came into contact with every inch of Jane’s body. She breathed deeply as the woman patted her shoulder, murmuring, “You’re clear. Step over there, please,” and moved onto Weller, whose cheeks promptly flushed. 

Rich sidled up to Jane, fingers trailing delicately up her spine. “So, the Monaco job, that was you guys, right?” he asked her, voice for her alone. She peeked over at Weller, who was staring up at the ceiling 

She nodded at him, leaning slightly into his touch.

The smile he turned on her was not the open, admiring grin of earlier, but much darker. “Wow, I mean, that guy was a thorn in my side for so long, I’m glad someone finally,” he paused, then dragged a finger across his throat, leaving a mark where a jagged fingernail scratched the skin. Jane lifted her fingers to the scratch, feeling light-headed, and tracing the line of red.

“Who did it, though?” he asked, a little breathless at her delicate touch. “Was it… I mean, who actually slit his throat.”

“I did,” Jane whispered in his ear, stretching her hand around his throat with the lightest pressure. Rich’s security at the door surged forward, face a thundercloud, but Rich waved him off. “With my butterfly knife.” She let him feel the strength in her hand, gripping him a bit tighter and he squeaked. 

Jane relaxed her grip, meeting Weller’s eyes over Rich’s shoulder. His eyes were hot. Jealous? Aroused? Angry? She couldn’t tell. He was the person she knew best, but what did she know about him, really? Not much. But enough?

“I gotta be honest,” Rich said, drawing her attention back. “This whole thing that you got going on right now is really working for me.” He ran his hands up her arms. “I mean, what’s the deal with you and Stubbles over there?” 

She couldn’t help but smile. And wonder what the stubble might feel like against her thighs. 

“Are you guys fully… open, or is it a committed thing? ‘Cause if it’s the latter, I mean… I’m okay just to watch, you know? It’s something that I’ve discovered I actually really like doing. I don’t know where it comes from, but it really turns me on, you know?”

“Is that what the bag is for?” she asked him, aiming for sultry and unsure if she was successful.  She glanced down and saw him easing down the tent in his slacks. Okay then, sultry. 

Jane pulled open the bag, which had been hanging on her wrist, and extracted its contents. There was a box of condoms and a small bottle of expensive lubricant. 

“A good host makes sure everyone’s safe at the party,” he informed her. “If we were going motorcycle riding, I’d provide helmets.”

“Are we going motorcycle riding? Because I don’t ride bitch,” she informed him, biting off the affricate harshly.

“Maybe later?” he suggested, voice rising at the end. “Do you think he’d be cool with that? Would he be open to that sort of thing? Do you think he’s an open person?”

Weller insinuated himself between them, gripping Jane’s hip tightly. “We doing this or what?” he bit out.

Rich looked them up and down, slowly. “You like the jealous type?” he asked in Bulgarian.

Jane paused, putting on a wicked smile Weller had never seen before. “I like all types,” she replied in the same language.

Rich clapped delightedly. “Very good, very good!” He switched to English. “May I have the necklace, please? I have a jeweler on the premises and, uh, she’s gonna check out the necklace stone by stone, which is gonna take a while. But, in good faith, I’m gonna give you the list.” He twirled his finger to indicate Jane should turn around. 

“Now, you can’t leave the party until the necklace checks out. And if it doesn’t,” he warned, pulling cruelly on the necklace, leaving marks on Jane’s neck and taking her breath away for a long second. Weller growled, but Rich let go. “Well, if it doesn’t, you’re both dead.”

Jane’s hand went up to her neck, unsure of the game they were playing now. He’d been responding her dominance, but his abrupt change in personality indicated that he was more unstable than she’d anticipated. 

“I’m kidding!” he exclaimed, giggling like a much younger man. “Or am I?” Rich waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously. “Sometimes, I don’t even know.”

Jane had a pretty good idea, though. The girl with the drinks from before came by again and Weller snatched a glass from the tray, absenting himself from their conversation while he got his temper under control. He looked down at the side table and noticed another starburst pin resting in a bed of black velvet. 

“Another pin?” he asked, turning around to show Rich and Jane his find.

“It’s another buyer,” Rich replied, watching one of the guards leave to take the necklace to the in-house jeweler.

“I thought that we had the only copy,” Weller said, covering concern with anger.

“For $6 million? Get over yourself, man. Do you know how hard it was to acquire this list? You paid for access, not exclusivity,” he said dismissively. “Besides, what are you worried about? That they’re gonna kill the guys you wanna kill first?”

Weller opened his mouth to reply, but Jane got there first.

“That’s exactly it,” she rumbled in Rich’s ear, enjoying the harshness of Bulgarian. “Every kill the other buyer gets is money out of my pocket.”

Weller gaped as she bit the other man’s earlobe lightly, unable to understand what she was saying.

“What would it cost?” she asked him. “For exclusivity?”

Rich bit his lip. Jane hoped he was thinking with the wrong head. She could tell he was wealthy, ostentatiously so. After a certain amount of money, surely experiences became the more interesting return on investment. She could only hope.

The other man remained silent, so Jane made her way over to Weller, who was looking at her like she’d grown a second head. “Just go with it,” she whispered, before tracing her tongue along his ear. He shuddered against her and she kissed her way down his sharp cheekbone, holding his face still with one firm hand.

Jane captured his mouth, delicately at first, little closed-mouth kisses to tease, followed by a nibble on his bottom lip. He hesitated and she could see the moment he decided “fuck it” and kissed her back. She buried one hand in his hair and dragged him closer to her by his hip. Tracing his teeth with her tongue, she thrilled at the wet heat of his mouth and the press of his erection against her middle.

She broke the kiss to turn around and raise her brows at Rich, who was watching with his mouth open. 

 _Well?_ her look asked. _Are you in or not?_

Rich wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants. “I think we can negotiate,” he said, staring at Weller’s reddened lips.

Weller’s hand at her hip gripped her hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Why don’t you start?” Jane prompted him, trying to calm Weller with gentle strokes to his lower back.

Rich licked his lips. “I, uh, I’d like to be the filling in your scary assassin sandwich,” he said. 

“Are you propositioning my wife?” Weller thundered.

“I mean, you’re invited, too,” Rich said, surprised. “That’s what makes a sandwich a sandwich, y’know. Two pieces of bread?”

Jane saw him clench his fist and it occurred to her that he might haul off and break Rich’s jaw, so she intervened. “A moment, _lyubim_?” 

She pulled him to the bay window, where she forced him to sit next to her. She threaded her fingers through his short-cropped hair and his eyes closed at the sensation. 

“What would you do to save two thousand lives?” she whispered to him, as quietly as she possibly could. “You know the answer as well as I do.”

She saw the wheels turning.

“Absolutely anything you could,” she continued. “Anything. An evening of embarrassment for two thousand people’s lives. It’s a good trade, Weller. We shouldn’t even have to think about it.”

“I don’t want him touching you,” he hissed.

If they were getting to this stage, then the big question had been answered: they were going to do this. Now the details.

“Are you willing to top him?” she asked, genuinely curious and a little aroused but doing her best not to show it. 

His cheeks burned. “I… I don’t know if I could,” he admitted. “Men aren’t really my thing.”

“He said he liked to watch,” she told him. “Could you deal with that?” His blush fueled hers.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” he grumbled.

They returned to Rich, holding hands tightly. “This is not something we do regularly, Mister Dotcom. We needed to negotiate first.”

“Of course,” Rich breathed. A smile curved his lips, anticipating an exciting night to come.

“You mentioned you liked to watch,” she said, reverting to Bulgarian to save Weller the embarrassment of understanding this conversation. “Would that be acceptable?”

“A little disappointing,” he frowned, “But acceptable. May I… set the scene? It won’t be gross, I promise.”

Jane nodded her permission. 

“Good, good. The guard will bring you when it’s ready. ’Til then, relax. Have some jalapeño poppers. He needs to chillax.”

Rich gave them a little salute and left the room. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Weller informed her.

“Do you have a better one?” Jane snapped, letting the vixen persona drop. “Finish your drink. Apparently you need to ‘chillax.’”

Weller groaned. “This is utter bullshit.”

Jane ignored him and strode off to find jalapeño poppers. They sounded interesting. 

The pair investigated an absurdly large bowl of caviar, something Jane had no memory of trying. She spread a bit on the cracker and bit down. Chew. Chew. Chew. Weller watched for her reaction. Swallow.

“Salty,” she coughed, flagging down a waiter with a red as thick as blood. Weller’s answering grin was swiftly wiped off his face as they were approached.

“Sir? Ma’am?” asked the pixie from earlier, with the wand. “Mr. Dotcom is ready for you.”

Jane slammed the rest of the wine, wiped her lips delicately with a cocktail napkin, and gestured for the young woman to lead on.

They passed dozens of couples and trios and groups in various configurations, the musk from earlier much stronger in this wing of the mansion. The limbs, moving together, rhythmic and glistening in the low light was beautiful, mesmerizing. Jane tried to respect their privacy by not staring, but they weren’t tucked away in one of the many bedrooms she was sure the mansion contained. They were letting it all hang out, as it were, and she was strangely pleased to witness their unselfconscious pursuit of pleasure. 

“Do you need anything, ma’am?” the young woman asked when they arrived, deferring to Jane. It made her smile. 

“No, thank you, _sladko momiche_.” She cupped the young woman’s cheek for a moment, returning the slightly inappropriate touch from earlier. 

Weller watched in something like stunned disbelief. Jane opened the door to the suite. 

As promised, it wasn’t gross. Far from it. It was dark and plush, lit with hundreds of candles and rich with the scent of cinnamon. A little gothic, a little romantic. The bed was almost ridiculously large, with enormous pillows and a fluffy duvet. Rich waited for them in a tufted wingback, wearing a black robe. His admiring smile from earlier returned at their entrance, breathing deeply as Jane closed and locked the door. 

“This is lovely,” she told him, appreciating the ambiance for her first and probably last moment of intimacy with Weller. Communication was truly not his strong suit. They weren’t ever going to get past this. So if this was to be the only time, well, she would pour every ounce of her love and admiration for him into this encounter. Rich was going to get one hell of a show. 

He had acceded gracefully to his role as voyeur, something she was sure was not in his nature, so she rewarded him by grabbing his hair and pulling it back so he could stare straight up at her. His pupils were blown as he looked at her and she stole a brutal kiss from him. When she let him go, he was panting like he’d run a mile. 

Jane maintained eye-contact with Weller as she presented Rich with her back. “Unzip me,” she instructed. His fingers fumbled slightly with the delicate pull of the zipper and revealed her pale, white skin slowly. She had a moment’s panic that the makeup on her tattoos might have rubbed off, but told herself firmly that the makeup had been carefully applied to last for hours, even through sweat. They had expected to be dancing at a gala, not making love, but exertion was exertion. Wasn’t it?

His fingers brushed down her spine as he finished undoing her dress. The zipper stopped right above the cleft of her arse. She carefully pulled her arms through the long sleeves of her dress and pushed the rest of it down to puddle at her feet. 

Jane stood in a delicate, lace bra that clasped in the front and smooth satin panties that lay close to her skin so as not to show through the dress. Weller tried to pretend like he’d seen it all before, but hopefully Dotcom would interpret his heated gaze as that of a man still madly in love with his wife. It wasn’t terribly far from the truth.

“Come here,” she told Weller, who approached her without hesitation, still drinking her in. “I’ve been wanting to take this tie off since you put it on.” That was honest, she thought.

Weller’s eyes closed as she pulled at one end of the bow tie. It came unraveled in her hands. Just like he would. She let it flutter to the ground. 

Her careful fingers unbuttoned his jacket, his vest, his shirt until all three hung  at his sides, exposing the smooth planes of his chest and the impressive definition of his abdominal muscles. Her fingers traced his treasure trail, so like the one she had admired earlier, but better for belonging to the man in front of her. 

Jane pushed each layer off his shoulders individually, leaving his gleaming, golden skin bare in the candlelight. Cognizant of making it a good show, she knelt before Weller, looking up through her lashes. He was breathing heavily, eyes hot as he gazed at her on her knees before him, everything he’d imagined and a few things beside. It was strange to see her without her tattoos, without his name permanently branded on her back. Perhaps as she might have been had she not been kidnapped as a child. 

She unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops slowly. When she had the whole thing in her hands, she doubled it in half and smacked the floor with it. Weller and Rich jumped, surprised by the noise, which made her grin. She let it fall from her hand and palmed his erection, straining toward her. He broke their eye contact, lids slamming shut at the sensation. She stroked him through his slacks a few times, hot and hard even through layers of fabric. A little noise escaped his closed lips, perhaps a moan, perhaps a groan. It didn’t matter.

Jane unbuttoned his slacks and undid the zipper as slowly as Rich had undone her dress. They were perfectly tailored and she had occasion to wonder why he had tailored tuxedo. She gave the legs of his slacks a little tug and they fell to the ground. 

“Step,” she commanded. He did, standing before her in a pair of dark green boxer briefs that hid nothing from her. Jane caressed him again, letting the fingers of one hand slip beneath the fabric. There was nothing soft about his body, all hard planes and tightly corded muscles. It was intoxicating, having him at her mercy, emitting little gasps as she touched him intimately for the first time. It was everything and nothing like her earlier explorations of his skin.

“Look at me.”

He did, though it seemed a strain. She licked him through the fabric, tongue broad and rasping, then mouthed at the head, rising a bit off her heels. Jane dipped her fingers under the band of elastic and could feel the heat radiating from him. She pulled them down a bit, exposing a neatly trimmed thatch of hair above the head of his slightly curved cock.

His blue eyes burned into her and she pulled his briefs down the rest of the way. She didn’t instruct him to step out, enjoying the heat in his cheeks as he realized he was nude in front of a stranger. And a male stranger at that. The dominant persona she’d adopted enjoyed it very much.

Weller’s cock was lovely, not much longer than average but beautifully thick. She was a little disappointed he was cut for some reason that she couldn’t recall, but it did look wonderful. She wrapped her fingers around him, jerking him slowly with one hand and cupping his balls with the other. He couldn’t stifle his moan this time, and she reveled in the loss of his iron control.

Jane stood and shoved him toward the enormous bed. He looked shocked at the rough treatment and she cut her eyes at their watcher. Rich had been very well-behaved so far. She was a little surprised. 

The backs of Weller’s knees hit the bed and he sat with a bit of a thump. She looked down at him, smiling darkly as he reached up to unhook the clasp in the front of her bra and brush the straps off her shoulders. Jane let it fall to the ground. As her normal self, she would have been mortified. In this role she adopted, though, she was completely unashamed. 

He was mesmerized by the sight of her, feeling the need to pinch himself as he took in this pale goddess in his arms, the woman he’d been looking for all his life. She was here. And her dark pink nipples were perfection, pebbled against the pale skin of her small breasts. Weller cupped one gently, rolling the nipple between his thumb and index finger with the lightest pressure. She smiled at him serenely, pulling his other hand to the neglected breast and holding it to her. Weller grabbed her arse instead and pulled her between his thighs so he could bring his lips to her.

Jane permitted this to continue for a short while, letting him lave her nipples with his tongue and nibble daintily. His stubble was rough against the delicate skin of her breasts, in sharp contrast to his careful treatment of her body, and she hoped the makeup would stand-up to the chafing. 

She knelt between his legs and quickly took him into her mouth, rubbing her tongue along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. A shocked expletive burst out of him and he pet the top of her head, frustrated that her hair was slicked back instead of tumbling loosely where he could tangle his fingers in it. She clamped her lips down around him, sucking him further into her mouth.

The heat of Jane’s mouth was driving him mad, her tongue fluttering along his shaft. She let his head push into her soft cheek, pushing it out obscenely. It was the hottest thing he’d seen in his life and he resisted the urge to thrust. She made it easier by wrapping her fingers around the portion of his cock she couldn’t take and rubbed in time with the movement of her mouth over him. Weller couldn’t keep watching her any longer, though her brown eyes staring up at him heatedly through her lashes was almost enough to bring him over.

A soft moan from the corner distracted them from their play and they turned to look at Rich, who was open-mouthed and pulling lightly at his own cock under the robe.

Jane climbed into Weller’s lap and kissed hum before he could say anything stupid. He wasn’t much of a fan of his own flavor, but, fuck, this was Jane. She broke the kiss and looked over one shoulder flirtatiously at Rich. “Enjoying the show?” she asked huskily.

Rich nodded vigorously and tried to smile, but was too far into his own pleasure to chat.

Thank god for small mercies, Weller thought.

She returned to kissing him thoroughly, exploring every crevice of his mouth and rubbing up against his erection. He luxuriated in the feeling of satin and was surprised when he realized she’d soaked through the scrap of satin she still wore.

“Fuck,” he gasped, breaking their kiss to try and pull them down, wanting to feel her drip onto his fingers. The position wasn’t quite right for that, so she stood and backed up a few steps so both men in the room could see her properly. She pulled down the elastic until they simply fell off her legs onto the floor. The dark curls of her sex were soft-looking and there were three gasps in the room as she dragged her fingers through her outer lips to spread moisture over her clit. 

Weller felt absolutely out of control, his skin buzzing with arousal as he watched Jane, his Jane, put on a show for him. There was nothing coquettish about it. She was intent on him, so focused he was a little concerned and a lot aroused.

She stalked toward him with the leonine grace of a predator, head cocked slightly to the side. Weller scooted back on the bed until he felt pillows behind him and watched as she crawled up on the bed, as graceful on all fours as she’d been on two. He felt his cock twitch. To be the subject of all of her attention was terrifying and wonderful and at this point he could care less that someone was watching. Who gives a shit? The whole world can watch.

Jane hovered on top of him, still on all fours, rolling her back to brush his sex with her own. Her curls were just as soft as he expected and he wanted to bury his fingers and his face into her. 

“You’re going to bring me off before I fuck you,” she informed him. “Twice.”

A shudder ran through him at her implacability and he nodded, delighted that her intentions aligned with his own. He tried to sit up, planning to arrange himself between her thighs where he could watch her shudder and moan and arch her back. But she had other plans and shoved him back. She moved the pillow to the side so he was lying flat on the mattress and crawled over him. 

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured, realizing her intention. 

“If you need to stop, _lyubim_ , you hit the mattress three times. Understand?”

The Bulgarian jerked him out of his sex-stunned haze as he remembered where they were and why they were doing this, that this wasn’t the end of a romantic date or the culmination of their careful flirtation. This was work. This was necessary. They had to fuck or people would die. 

Jane watched as Weller’s expression became shuttered and she felt fury rise in her chest as he pulled away, emotionally if not physically. She gripped his arms and buried her face in his neck, wanting to punish him for making this about their work, for making this weird, but she let her anger go instead. This was going to be beautiful and wonderful and she wasn’t going to let his hangups get in the way of it. 

“I want this, Kurt. I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she whispered, too quietly for Rich to hear. “I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to strip you bare of your armor and your clothes and shatter the walls that keep you from me. I’ve wanted to touch you and lick you and fuck you into the mattress. I want you to hold me and to keep me and to love me. Can you do that? Just tonight?” She mouthed at his neck, sucking and licking and careful not to leave a mark. “Can you give yourself to me?”

Weller bucked his hips at her words and moaned under her ministrations. Peripherally, Jane could see Rich striping his cock more vigorously. She turned back to her would-be lover and cocked her head to the side. _Well?_ she asked silently. He nodded, minutely, and she grinned at him, what he was starting to recognize as her vixen’s grin, the one she adopted when she pushed past her uncertainty. 

She climbed up his body, letting some of her weight rest on his sternum and chest, but distributed most of it through her feet so she wouldn’t crush him. 

Weller stared up at her pink lips and darker entrance and wanted. Desperately. She lowered herself onto his face and he explored her with his tongue, finding how she was positioned, before getting to work making her scream.

Jane was overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on her, gripping the headboard tightly. He sucked her lips into his mouth, nibbling at the edges a bit, before thrusting his tongue into her as far as he could to taste her better. She arched at that and he smiled into her wet cunt. That was only the beginning. He began to circle her clit with his tongue, gently at first. He found the little nerve under the hood and started to trace it more firmly. 

She was swearing, profusely, in several languages he recognized and a couple he didn’t, gasping loudly on top of him. He fluttered his tongue against her clit and she went wild. He continued licking into her as she tried to catch her breath. When he finally sucked it into his mouth, varying the pressure, her thighs started to quiver, then her abdominal muscles, and she yelled her pleasure, biting her lip when his name, his real name threatened to escape. He let her come down for just a moment and she trembled above him and ran her fingers frantically through his short hair.

Without warning, he resumed the flutter with his tongue that had driven her mad and she bucked into him. She was wet, incredibly wet, and he could feel it dripping down his chin. Jane could feel higher brain function leaving her, something she was totally fine with, her universe narrowed down to the gorgeous man with his head between her thighs. It was incredible to see him broken open and dedicated solely to her pleasure and god, did it feel good. She was so close after her first orgasm, riding the high but not prepared to tip over just yet. He shook his head, burying himself deeper in her cunt and started humming tunelessly. 

Jane couldn’t deny her orgasm any longer and she felt her vision fill up with stars, losing sight of everything for a long, wonderful moment where she knew nothing but the extraordinary pleasure that had taken her over. She started to shift off of Kurt, gasping, but his hands gripped her thighs and held her firmly in place. He continued to thrash his tongue against her and brought her again. And again. And again. She was so sensitive at that point that one orgasm exploded into another, until finally she brushed up against the edge of pain.

“Enough,” she finally groaned, removing his fingers from her thighs roughly and rolled over to catch her breath.

She glanced at Kurt, who was smiling at the ceiling, his entire lower face shining with her come, limbs spread wide on the bed as he cooled off. He started as something cool and damp was placed in his hand — it was Rich, offering him a damp washcloth to clean off his face. Weller was shocked to feel something akin to gratitude to their watcher, and more than a tiny bit of pride at his ability to reduce Jane to a quivering, profane mess. The man’s previous admiration had proof, now, not just idle speculation. He surprised all three of them by giving Rich a small smile in thanks. 

Jane crawled to the other side of the bed from Weller and Rich and drank deeply from a large glass of water, condensation dripping down the side. She looked at it, considering, and brought it with her as she returned to Weller. She climbed on top of him, just above his slightly softened erection, and held the glass over him. A drop of cold water fell to his chest and he hissed. 

“Would you like some water?” she asked, mischievous. 

Weller snorted, then gasped again as another drop fell, this time on a nipple. Another, this time in the well of his navel. He reached for the glass and she admired the crunch of his muscles as he lifted himself up slightly to sip the water. His throat rippled as he swallowed and he passed back the glass. She let the cold bottom brush against his stomach, making him gasp, and set it on the table on his side of the bed. 

Jane reached behind her back and grasped his erection, and stroked once, twice, three times, feeling his hips jerk under her. He wasn’t soft anymore. She crawled back and took him into her mouth again, letting her saliva drip down his shaft and over his balls, closing her lips firmly. He tried again to run his fingers through her hair and failed, but she grasped his hand and twined their fingers together. He squeezed her hand tightly as she continued to slick up his cock.

When she judged he was wet enough and squirming under her hands, she rolled on the condom so kindly provided and knelt on top of him. She teased the head of his cock with first her curls, then her entrance, hovering, barely taking him in, letting him feel just the tiniest bit of the heat of her body. Slowly, so slowly, ( _agonizingly slowly_ , Weller thought), she lowered herself down, down, down until she was fully seated. Kurt groaned, a deep rumble she could feel in her bones, his hands blindly reaching for her hips.

She moved. Very carefully, taking in the extraordinary sensory experience — his sweat, her come, his labored breath, the soft fabric of the duvet, the solid warmth of his cock inside of her, the gritty slide despite their thorough prep — she had no idea how long it had been for her… and how strange was that. 

Jane adjusted herself and began to ride him. Deliberately. Lovingly. Dragging her fingers down his chest, running her thumb down his treasure trail to where they were joined. His pubic hair was starting to get matted with her juices and she smiled at the mess. His hips were jerking up to meet her and she picked up the pace, rolling her hips to try a few different angles. The movement made Kurt hiss and thrust. Hard. It hit a spot inside her that made her mewl and she started taking him in earnest. He rose up to meet her on every thrust and she shoved her hands to her clit and started rubbing in earnest, wanting to share the extraordinary pleasure she could see written all over his face.

They moved together for a moment, for a minute, for a lifetime, coming closer and closer to the end, or perhaps it was the beginning. If Jane had anything to say about it, this would be the first of many unions. For the first time in as long as she could remember — though that wasn’t particularly long at all — she knew herself. She knew herself and she knew another person completely, the person she had yearned for from the moment she looked at him. The person she never thought she would have. And here he was, coming undone beneath her. His fingers held her hipbones so tightly, she was sure the makeup would come off, she was sure it would bruise. What if this was the end?

It was a kind of end. Kurt shuddered, his whole body seizing up as he thrust up into her sharply. She clenched down, seeking her own orgasm as she frantically brought herself over the edge to join him.

She half-lay, half-collapsed onto his chest, winded and exhausted and full of endorphins and adrenaline. Jane glanced down her side and sighed with relief that while the makeup had smudged, it wasn’t obvious that it was covering a tattoo. 

Jane and Weller came down from the incredible high together, sharing breath, until Jane rolled off of him to expose her sweat-slick body to the air. A cool breeze took her by surprise; she hadn’t felt it earlier. Glancing toward their forgotten voyeur, Jane saw a crumpled tissue on the floor before spotting Rich with a ceiling fan remote in his hand, pointed unnecessarily at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” she said, unsure who she was addressing. Gratitude to Weller, for sharing this with her. Gratitude to Rich, for bringing them together. 

She leaned into Kurt and kissed him with all the passion she’d been saving for the day when his seemingly impenetrable walls crumbled for her. That day might not have been today, but she would fiercely cling to that hope until proven otherwise. He kissed her back, sweeter than expected, and he gazed at her with hooded eyes and a Mona Lisa smile. 

“That was beautiful,” Rich said, gathering to him the pieces of his personality that made him an ebullient, dangerous man. “A worthy trade! Ah, would bring a tear to the eye of any man. Well. Not any man. But! Beautiful.”

Jane and Weller stared at him as he tied his robe tighter ‘round his middle and went to the door. 

“The kills are yours, you lovely creatures. But, um, send me a postcard every once and a while? I want to hear all the juicy details. Well, all the juicy details that fit on a postcard. Maybe code? You’ll figure it out. Buh-bye!”

And then he was gone and the pair were left to piece their relationship back together. They stared for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Weller’s laugh was surprisingly bright for such a stoic man.  Weller desperately wanted to hear Jane laugh again.

“Y’know,” Jane said, stifling her giggles. “I almost don’t want to arrest him.”

Weller groaned and hit her in the face with a pillow.


End file.
